


Quint's Drabbles

by QuintessenceA



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Lamia, Robot Sans, bitty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessenceA/pseuds/QuintessenceA
Summary: Posting things here that don't have much yet. Not sure what's worth continuing.





	1. The Fraud

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post from drundertalescum
> 
> https://drundertalescum.tumblr.com/post/164378485823/you-know-how-there-are-freaky-friday-and-peggy-sue

"lets just get to the point,” Sans said and the room filled with the familiar crackle of magic as the portal hummed to life. A blinking red light immediately switched to solid green, indicating a resonating portal was ready *somewhere* else. That concerned him a little, but when there were literally an infinite number of universes and a potentially infinite number of portal machines, the chance that he’d touch that particular universe was pretty slim, right? Especially since it didn’t exist any longer. Probably didn’t.

“Brother, Look!” Papyrus cried, pointing a gloved finger to the center of the swirling plasma. There was a flickering deep in the portal that quickly changed to a ripple; something (or someone) was already coming through. 

His brother’s excitement was palpable as he pulled his arm back and placed it on Sans’s shoulder. After years of cajoling and pushing he’d finally convinced Sans to work on it again. Sans had never told him why he’d given up on it before. Seeing the expressions on Papyrus’s face, the obvious pride in his brother, the joy of seeing all the hard work come to fruition, it seemed silly to have waited so long.

A skeletal hand emerged slowly from the disturbed surface. That wasn’t surprising, of course it would be another Sans that got the machine running. What actually was surprising were the claws on the end of each fingertip. 

An arm followed the hand, and soon a short skeleton in a black jacket with a thick fur lined hood stood in the lab. He held his magic at the ready, manifesting visibly in his sockets as bright red eyelights. It made him look particularly frightening, despite the easy, almost lazy grin that spread across his skull. Every inch of visible bone was criss crossed in little white scars, some deeper than others, all topped off by a large crack that ran straight down his face, across one eye and to his teeth. He slid his hands into his pockets, florescent light reflecting off a pointed gold tooth in a mouth full of fangs as he spotted Sans. Was that recognition?

Sans tried to tell himself that he was just being paranoid as he kept his own smile firmly in place.

The eyelights landed on Papyrus and the smile faltered, wincing with something like pain for a fraction of a second before slipping back to the toothy grin. Like a magnet seeking north his eyes were drawn right back to Sans.

“So…” he drawled, dragging out the word to at least five syllables, “I’d ask who ya are, but I’m pretty sure we both know.” He pulled a cell phone out of a pocket, checking it quickly with hardly more than a twitch of his eyes. “Well, whaddya know, I’ve got signal. My bro’s comin’ too, be here in a second.” Something about his smile turned decidedly predatory as he side stepped from the portal, watching Sans the entire time. 

“That Sounds Great,” Papyrus exclaimed, as optimistic as ever. Did his grip on Sans shoulder increase a fraction, or was that just his imagination? With his free hand he gestured grandly as he continued, “But Still, Proper Introductions Are In Order! I Am The Great Papyrus, And This Is My Brilliant And Currently Industrious Brother, Sans. Welcome To Our, Well, Basement!”

“Heh. Sweet lookin’ place you got here. This'a pretty nice timeline ya got goin’ on, or what?” It sounded like a challenge.

“Why Of Course! We’re All Very Friendly Around Here, I’m Sure You’ll Meet Lots-” Papyrus cut himself off as the surface of the portal began to ripple again. Sans looked to the portal, trying to ignore the piercing stare (glare?) of the other Sans.

This time there was no hand tentatively questing outward, simply a red heeled boot striding through as a tall, confident skeleton stepped into the lab with all the power and authority of a captain on his own deck. With a shock Sans realized he was a captain, recognizing the dark guard uniform. Then he saw the scarf.

It wasn’t as nice as the one Papyrus worn, wasn’t as new. It was patched in a dozen places, threadbare in even more. It was the one Sans had given him nearly a decade ago.

“oh, bro-” he breathed, then sucked in sharply through his teeth as he tried to sneak a quick glance at the other Sans. Had he heard?

“You fuckin’ BASTARD!” screamed the other Sans, utterly enraged. Yup, he’d heard. “I fuckin’ KNEW it was YOU!”

In an explosion of fury, he launched himself at Sans, claws extended as if he was going to rip Sans’s eyelights straight out of his skull. Papyrus was faster, yanking him out of the way by his shirt. Sans fell to the floor, slipping free of the grip, and he reached out towards the other’s Soul with blue magic. The other apparently had the same idea.

Ping! The sound reverberated, doubled as each Sans held tight to the other’s Soul, drawing both of them down to the floor.

“Sans!” both versions of Papyrus cried out in unison. Two walls of bone constructs, one red and one white, filled the area between the two Sans, splitting the room in two. They each rushed to aid their brother as the blue hold lifted. Papyrus helped Sans to his feet while the newest guest lifted his own brother off the ground by the fluffy scruff of his jacket.

“Boss! Leggo!” he shrieked, twisting in the air as he tried to reach out towards Sans, heedles of the bones in front of him. “Lemme go! I’ll dust him! He stole my fuckin’ LIFE! He-! I'll…” Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, he went limp in his brother’s grasp. And then he began to cry, fat red tears flowing down his cheeks as he stared at the spot between his brother’s boots. “He stole my life, Boss…”


	2. Building an Army idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moldsmals and Woshuas will not regain us the surface against millions of humans.
> 
> Content warning, spontaneous abortion of test fetus.

The golden light filtering in through the windows made the flowers in the throne room look bright and cheery. Birds were singing outside, flowers releasing a pleasant scent. Gaster could almost convince himself thay it was still a place of peace and joy, until he saw the hunched figure of the king. He was facing the flowers and Gaster looked at his back, a monster defeated. Everything has been taken from him.

"She has left me, you know," said the deep, sad voice.

"… I know. I'm sorry."

"What should I do?"

Gaster was silent for a moment. "You continue. We break the barrier. We take our life back from the humans."

Asgore turned slowly to face him. In his hands he cupped a small blue heart. It lay gently against his palm as it softly pulsed with faint inner light.

"I don't know if it's possible," Asgore said, almost to himself as he stared at the little Soul. "Even this one tiny child… it could have wreaked such destruction on all of us. It's been hundreds of years, and our numbers only grow smaller while the humand multiply out of control. We have, what, ten thousand monsters?  
Fifteen at most?" He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "And the strongest species all lost to the war. Without Tor… I am the last Dreemur. And you the last skeleton. Moldsmals and Woshuas will not regain us the surface against millions of humans."

Gaster raised a hand to interject, but lowered it quickly, balling his hand into a fist. Not a million.

The king noticed the movement. "Was that not what you'd told me? That your calculations had returned at least a million humans on the surface?" Hope filled the king's eyes for a moment. "I knew I had misheard, that couldn't be correct. Right?"

"I didn't say million," Gaster began, dropping his eyes to the floor. The golden flowers mocked him, a pretense of joy and brightness in the dark prison. "I said billion. When we went underground there were millions. My calculations have returned that by now at least a billion humans live on the surface. Billion with a B." He didn't look up, unwilling to watch the false spark of hope die in his king's eyes. 

But he could hear it. There was nothing but ash and dust in his voice as the king replied, "Oh. I see."  
Gaster had no reply, so he stayed silent. Eventually the king continued. "We need more monsters, Gaster. We need stronger monsters." He held out the blue Soul, still carefully held in his overlarge, fluffy claws. "Can't you use this? Take the human's strength and make us stronger?"

Gaster stared at the Soul, considering. "I… I might. I don't know. But trying could weaken the Soul, or even destroy it. We need it to break the barrier."

"And then what?" Asgore asked, pushing the Soul closer to Gaster. "Even if we collected all seven Souls, we'd still have nothing. Take it. I believe in you Gaster. If there is any monster in this Underground could unlock it's power it's you. I know that even if it broke, you could learn something from the pieces." 

When Gaster still didn't make any move to take the Soul, Asgore grabbed one of his bony hands and placed it gently over the small beating construct. "Please."

Gaster closed his fingers lightly around the heart and pulled it towards himself. It was warm, and felt so delicate. How could this frail little bit of magic be so strong in a human body? He thought of his own frail bones. An accident as a child cursed him with weak joints and blindness in one eye. Since then Gaster had taken a secondary liking to the sciences, always knowing that he'd never be as strong as the rest of the skeletons. His family had been strong, and they had fought. And they had died. 

Perhaps… perhaps this could make him strong.  
"Alright, your majesty. I will try."

~~~

"No, no, no!" Gaster screamed into the empty lab as he watched the yellow light in the test tube flicker and then fade away. Another failure. Another life that refused to form. Where there had been nearly a hundred infant souls formed, now only three remained.

Twelve years he'd been running this project. Since obtaining the first soul, two more humans had fallen and had their souls recovered for testing. 

Picking up the defunct yellow soul Gaster wanted to throw it. Wanted to watch it shatter as it hit the lab floor, glass and sterile fluid flying outwards as a target for his rage. 

Instead he carefully peeled open the lid, setting it aside as he retrieved a pair of forceps. Gently he retrieved the dead soul tissue (tying not to notice the tiny bony shape nestled inside), and discarded it before placing the glass and tool into the sink.

Turning back to his workable he grabbed a pen and began to document his latest failure. 

[Number 15, 1.2ml Yellow. Ceased function ××.××.19×× Cause unknown]

He rubbed the space his eyes as he looked at the remaining souls in their glass containers. Like all monster souls, they were white inverted hearts, but if you looked closely you could see the drops of human soul traits Gaster had inserted. If you looked even closer, you could see the skeletons, nearly translucent and no bigger than an apple pip, that tried to grow, nestled in the center of each soul. 

Of the 95 pieces of himself Gaster had sacrificed to this project, 62 had successfully formed souls. 39 had survived the injection of human traits. 22 had formed skeletons. 19 of those had ceased to glow. It was driving Gaster mad.

Why weren't they thriving? He asked himself for the thousandth time. This should be simple! No flesh, no organs, no difficult systems to control. Magic and marrow should be all they need. But still they die.  
And now he had only three.

The first, and oldest, number 14, was a light blue so pale you could hardly tell it wasn't true white. In contrast the next oldest soul, number 68, that had an orange hue so vivid it looked almost human. Finally, the weakest, and yet potentially the strongest, was number 87. 

A nearly reckless combination of yellow and cyan, number 87 had begun to crack almost as soon as it had formed. The yellow human justice had settled to the bottom of one lobe, and a hairline fracture had formed where the colors met. At least the crack didn't seem to be growing larger as the skeleton formed inside. 

With a sigh Gaster closed his notes, replacing them into his desk as he turned to leave the lab. There was nothing more to do tonight. Tomorrow was a new day. 

The next morning Gaster returned to find the light blue soul shuddering faintly. The loss of the yellow seemed to effect it in a way that looked anything but positive. Grabbing his luminosity meter, he checked the glow. A low .09, and as he watched it faded down to .08, hardly glowing at all.


	3. Lamia Fish Bitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Lamia AUs, and there was a picture of a goldfish bitty on Tumblr (by Muskka, and I have the keychain!), so I'm mixing.

Even though she's yet to see a monster in person, Brittany's pockets were full of monster gold and it was time to celebrate. 

Fresh seafood, Brittany had decided. That's how she'll celebrate. Jaz had made a mention of wanting some salmon recently. And where better to find fresh seafood than directly of the boats in the harbor? 

She headed down to the docks where rows upon rows of boats waited, sitting in their slips like so many cars in a busy parking lot. There were always fishermen around the boats, selling directly from the decks as if their boats were simply mobile storefronts.

Sure enough a rustic hand painted clapboard sign proudly proclaiming Fresh Wild Salmon in big, block letters caught her eye. It's sitting front of one of the smaller fishing boats loaded with gear. A bright orange "Yes, We're Open!" sign can be seen in one of the cabin windows. 

Perfect!

"Hello? Is there anyone around?" Brittany called out, looking for the owner as she stepped onto the boat. Usually by now someone would have come out to greet her. Fishermen are always pretty casual guys but it seemed strange no one is keeping an eye out for customers. She passed by small cages, fishing tackle, ice chests and more as she headed towards the front of the boat. Surely there had to be someone at the wheel. 

Reaching the cabin door, she raised her hand to knock, but paused when she heard a man's voice give a sharp yell and curse from behind it. The door flew outward, and she stepped back quickly to avoid getting hit. A man about her same age, mid twenties, stepped outside, glaring as he struggled to keep his grip on a red eel that was writhing madly in his gloved hands. The front half of the eel was white bone, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the poor things as she wondered how something so injured could still be fighting so strongly. 

The man froze as he realized he's was no longer alone on the boat, and while he was distracted looking at her the eel struck at him, barely missing his face. The man dropped the eel, cursing, and it landed on the deck with as much of a clack as a splat, before it began to flop towards Brittany. 

"Grab a cage," the fisherman shouted, "don't let it get away!"

Thinking quickly, she grabbed one of the basket-like metal cages near her elbow and dropped down onto the eel. She pressed her hands down against it to hold the eel inside, but pulled back with a cry when she felt little claws scratching into her skin between the wires.

The eel wiggle rolled to the edge of the cage, and she would have sworn it was trying to use the bones of its front fins to lift the side. The booted foot of the fisherman dropped securely down on top of the cage, blocking her view.

"Thanks, good thinking there," he said, drawing her attention up to him. "Little bugger's feisty. What can I do ya for?" 

"Uh," she stumbled, returning her mind to why she was on a boat in the first place. "Oh! Fish! I was looking to buy some salmon. But what is with that thing? It looks like half it's body is missing."

The man grinned. "Nah, it's fine. This is even the second one we've pulled up, and it's actually kinda trippy. Why don't you hand me those thick gloves over there and I'll show you?" he said, pointing to a pair of heavy leather gloves lying just out of reach. 

She looked the gloves he was already wearing, but grabbed the others as requested. “What's wrong with the pair you already have?” she asked he stripped the first pair off. 

“Not enough grip, but these are much better,” he told her her, pulling on the new pair and flexing his fingers as he showed off the rubber grips on the palms. Bending down, he carefully replaced his boot on the cage with his glove. Giving himself a quick series of short breaths, he counted, "One, two, three!" and lifted the cage. The eel darted to the side, but the fisherman was faster, lunging and grabbing the eel right behind its head.

He was grinning widely as he held the fish out towards her, showing it off like a trophy. The eel was less than impressed with the situation, choosing instead to sink its pointed little fangs into the finger of the glove as it gripped... with a tiny arm?

"Would you look at that!" Brittany exclaimed as she looked over the small creature. It wasn't exactly an eel, she could see that now. It had a red tail, about two feet long, flattened at the end, and weirdly bright and translucent. Like someone wrapped a snake skeleton in dull glowstick gel. But that wasn't even the strangest part. 

It was hard to tell from behind the glove, but from the creature's skull to its ribcage looked like almost exactly like a tiny human skeleton. A bit misproportioned, but everything was there. What she thought were front fins were really small bony arms with claws on its fingertips. There was a crack running along the top of its skull touching down to the right eyesocket. The crack was dripping a small bit of thin red liquid, but it definitely wasn't the horribly mangled, half de-skinned eel she had first thought it was. "Is it a monster?"

The fisherman shrugged. "Dunno. I heard about the whole 'monsters emerged from some mountain' thing," he said, waving his free hand to indicate something far away, "but I don't really know much about it."

"I've only seen them on tv, but I heard monsters are as smart as people," she told him, bringing her face closer to the bony-eel thing. There were little red pin pricks of color in its otherwise dark eyesockets, and it seemed to track her movement. "Is it intelligent?"

"Nah, it's just a fish, stupid as the rest- ow!" he yelped as one of the tiny teeth finally scored a mark through the glove. He shifted the eel with his other hand, disloging the slightly over-round skull from the leather. "A bit more vicious though. I'm gonna put this in a bucket." 

Brittany watched as he turned and began picking over the deck. "Maybe monsters have monster fish or something? Like, wild animal monsters?" she said, thinking aloud. "That's so cool. You said there's another?" 

The fisherman nodded as he pulled free a 5 gallon bucket from the clutter. "There was. A little longer in face and body, and it had spikes along its tail, but otherwise just like this one. Even had the same red color. Hey, get some water while I find a lid, would you please?" he asked, handing her the bucket. She hopped down onto the dock and swung it into the water. When she returned he already had the lid. "Thanks. I sold the first one to some guy a few days ago, then pulled Bitey here up today in a crab pot." 

In one swift movement he tossed the eel into bucket with a splash and slammed the lid down. "There!" he declared, stripping off the gloves. "That'll hold him. Now, what can I get for you?"

"How much for the monster fish?" She asked, kneeling down next to the bucket. She could see the shadow of the eel inside, scratching uselessly against the plastic. Jaz would love it, she just knew. "I want to buy it. Oh, and some salmon," she add remembering her original purpose. "What have you got?"

"Ha! You actually want the vicous little beast??" he laughed, honestly amused. "Well I'm pretty tired of getting bitten. I've got Pink, Coho and Red King. All out of Sockeye. Tell you what, King's $15 a pound. You buy two 3lb fillets and the bucket, and I'll send you and Bitey outta here for $100 even."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. That was a ridiculously good deal. She didn't need that much salmon but it was worth buying extra if he practically gave her the red fish. She had the money. There were a few things she'd been saving up for, but none of then were better than this!

"Really. And I've caught two so far, wouldn't be surprised I caught more." He looked to the side, suddenly seeming unsure about something. "And hey, maybe I could get your phone number? In case I find anymore?"

No wonder he gave her such a good deal, Brittany thought, smiling. He's hitting on her, and her was all for it. "Yes!" she exclaimed, maybe a bit more enthusiastically than was strictly needed. "I mean, deal! Definitely! And, um, yeah, and my number. Ah, I know!" She fish around in her pocket for a minute before pulling out s cell phone. Fliiping open the messenger app, she wrote up a quick text. 

-Hiya! Brittany's number. ♡

She decided to add a blue heart. That was friendship color, right? Not too forward, she hoped. She tap the recipient bar and handed him the phone. "Here, add your number."

He tapped the number in, smiling at the text. "Brittany, huh?" The text sent with a chime and he handed it back. A moment later she hear an answering ding from his pocket. He opened it, and sent s text right back.

"That's my name, don't wear it out, " She responded, mentally cringing at the automatic response picked up from her dad. She checked her phone for his text. "Nice to met you, Jerome," she said, extending her hand. 

He took it in his own and gave it a small shake. "Nice to meet you too, Brittany." His hand was warm and tough with calluses. 

A loud Thunk! from the bucket made them both look back down. The eel swam down, making a coiled shadow on the bottom of the bucket, then surged to the top, hitting the lid with another thunk but the lid stayed secure. It returned to the bottom again and stayed, apparently worn out by the failed escape.

"I'd better take care of that, huh?"

"Probably. Here, let me get your salmon. Be right back." Jerome turned, walking over to a large red cooler. He opened it and pulled out two vacuum-sealed packages of bright red salmon fillets.

She pulled out her wallet and had a handful of 20s ready for him as he walked back up, fillets now settled in a plastic grocery bag.

A phone rings inside the cabin as they traded, blaring loudly over speakers on the side of the boat, and Jerome looked back with a grimace. "Shoot, only the boss calls that line. I've got to get that, sorry," he apologizes before stepping towards the door. "Text me if you want, I'll be around."

"I've got to get going anyway. Thanks Jerome!" Brittany waved as he disappeared inside and the phone stopped ringing. "Well Bitey," she said, sliding the salmon bag onto her elbow and hauling up the bucket by the handle. "Let's go home. You're going to love it!"

A few internet searches, a few more buckets of seawater and a stop by the pet store has Brittany feeling pretty confident, if a bit lighter in the wallet than she thought she'd be today. Good thing she got the eel itself so cheaply, she thought, then repeated it to the eel. Of course it wouldn't understand her, but she'd always had pent up energy that she released through talking. She made it home to the little duplex she rented with Jaz and got started.

After she'd brought the red eel inside and set the bucket in the living room she decided to prep dinner first before tackling the aquarium. She kept a running monologue as she placed one of the salmon fillets in the brown sugar bourbon marinade and then placed them both in the fridge. That'll give her a few hours.

Brittany looked around, trying to decide the best place for the 30 gallon tank. "Well fish," she said, continuing her one sided conversion, "the only things sturdy enough are the kitchen counter or Jaz's old computer desk. The desk is in a better spot, but I bet Jaz wouldn't like losing her computer spot. So you get the counter!" It didn't thrash around in the bucket, so she felt like it must have agreed.

The tank and setup were easy enough, and she got it ready without much trouble. Some substrate pebbles, filter, a few plants, and some large rocks to hide in. Plus, a tiny seadiver for aesthetics. She was just trying to figure out how to add the water from the heavy buckets when she heard the front door open and shut.

"Hey Jaz! You have perfect timing," Brittany called out. "Why don't you come give me a hand?"

"What the hell is all this?" Jaz asked with a smile, coming into the kitchen. If Brittany had been asked to describe Jaz, she'd have to say “Punk Rock Chick.” With her pink and blonde hair and her slightly concerning habit of putting spikes on everything she owned, it was the only phrase that would do.

"I bought a monster fish! Well it's more of an eel than a fish, but whatever, I'm calling it a fish. Oh man, just wait till you see it, it's so cool," she tell her excitedly, and lifted up one of the seawater buckets. "I need to pour these buckets of seawater into the tank, could you help me lift them please?"

She gave Brittany a skeptical look, but shrugged off her work bag and walked over anyway. "Monster fish? Sea water? You finally lost it, haven't you? Such a shame too, so young, so crazy."

"Says the girl with different color hair every week," Brittany threw back, laughing. Between the two of them, they got the buckets lifted over the counter and the water poured into the tank. "Now for the hard part," she warned, gesturing to the final bucket with the red eel inside.

"What? Did you get a shark?"

"Not exactly, but it does bite," she told her as she set the grated metal lid she'd bought on top of the tank. She was pretty sure it was heavy enough to keep the eel inside the tank. It has a locking hatch, and she unhooked the latch and flipped it open. "I got it from this fisherman at the harbor, and it was not happy about being caught." She pulled on the pair of leather gloves she'd picked up for herself, and Jaz laughed as she posed. "The bucket has a drain in the lid, but it's too small for the eel to fit through. It'll be slower, but I say we pour the water out through that and then shake the fish out."

"If you say so," Brittany said, and grabbed the bucket. As she lifted it, the fish, quiet until now, suddenly sprang back to action, frantically trying to escape. "Wow, lively one."

Together they lifted it on the counter, then with the gloved hand Brittany removed the little round cap on the lid. Immediately, fish shoots up towards it, trying to push its body through but the hole. As predicted it was too small, and the eel was only able to get one arm out.

"What the hell kind of scrawny leggy thing is that?" Jaz exclaimed, staring at the bony claws that scrabbled against the plastic, digging tiny groves into the lid.

"I told you it was cool," she replied with a grin. "Now come on, lets get it in." 

The plan went smoothly, and as the eel slid into the tank Brittany shut the hatch with a snap! 

===

Sans was having one hell of a week.

First, he and Papyrus had found themselves ripped out of their reef, through time and space and dumped off in some chilly, kelpy wasteland. He had found them a nice little shoal to hole up in and were making plans on what to do next. But then Paps decided to wander. When he didn't return, Sans went looking, flicking his tongue and following the trail of his brother's magic like following a thread through the water, until he reached a metal cage. It sat quietly on the ground, a rope trailing upwards to a bright green buoy. There was something painted on the side of the bouy, but Sans couldn't read Legger writing.

He could taste the traces of red magic all around on the obvious trap, and though Sans couldn't imagine how Papyrus would have been stupid enough to get caught, it looks like he had. Sans spent a day watching it as crabs crawled inside to eat the bait, trapping themselves as they were too stupid to figure out how to crawl out again. Twice, Leggers came out in a boat, pulled it up, and a few minutes later it would sink back down, empty except for fresh bait. 

Sans had tried to climb onto one of the boats the second time they'd come to check the trap, but the sides were too slick. And it too fast to follow. Growling, he did the only thing he could think of- he swam into the cage.

A series of mishaps later left him with a cracked skull and unable to use any of his magic. Now, he was lying in a glass tank being gawked at by two Leggers. Both female, if he wasn't mistaken. The four glass walls he was trapped behind gave him an excellent view of how totally fucked he was.

One of them was speaking, the one that took him from the boat. That one seemed to always be saying something, and Sans was frustrated with himself that he'd never bothered to learn the weird "spoken" language the Leggers used. Papyrus would have known, he loved trying to figure out what Leggers said, treated it like a puzzle. Sans thought he heard the word “mermaid,” and knew that one well enough to know it was something the Leggers said when they were talking about the Folk. He growled. Why couldn't they just SoulSpeak like normal people?

There was a lot of pointing and gesturing from the other side of the glass. The one was still talking, talking, talking. She had talked almost constantly since Sans had found himself in her possession. She reminded him of the grey and white birds that were always chattering by the shore. Hmm, Whitebird. That'd be a good nickname for that one.

The Leggers weren't doing anything other than watching him, so he chose to ignore them for the time being and look around this new setup. It was small, but not uncomfortably so. There were a few plants, but they didn't look edible. Too bad, he was pretty hungry. He wondered how he was going to find food. If the Leggers didn't feed him, well, he supposed he'd have to- and what in the Deep was that thing?! 

Sans flinched back, whipping his tail for speed as he dove into one of the plants and away from what appeared to be a small Legger with a bulbous head in the cage with him. He held still, but couldn't make out any movement from it. Flicking out his tongue he tested the water, but everything was so unfamiliar and overly tainted by the scent of the Leggers that he couldn't properly sort anything out. 

Looking out at the big Leggers, Sans realized they were smiling at him. No, wait, they were laughing at him! He looked around the plant to get a better view of the thing that had startled him. Sure enough the small Legger hadn't moved, and now he could see that it wasn't even a living creature. It was more like a statue.

Was it some sorta prank? If so, he had to hand it to these Leggers, they'd got him good. Glancing over, Sans could see they were pointing from him to the statue and back again, still laughing. Yep, definitely a prank. Flicking his tongue at the thing again, he tasted Whitebird's scent strongly all over it. Well, he was going to have fun getting back at her for that.

Rolling his eyelights at the Leggers, Sans dismissed them again and continued his exploration. There was a tube that created suction in one corner, and he followed the tubing up to a ledge that poured water back in. 

Weird, he thought, poking his head above the water to get a good look at it. Whitebird was still chattering away, and he noticed it was easier to pick out individual words when the water was drained from his skull. Good to know. Looking up, he eyed the loosely woven metal that covered the top of the cage. He reached his arm up, gripping his phalanges around the thick wire and testing it with a quick shake. It was pretty heavy.

"Hey!" the second Legger shouted, rapping her fingers sharply against the lid by his head. 

"Yaa!" he squawked into the air, startled. With a splash he whirled around and ducked back underwater, his long tail coming up to agitate the surface. He dove for the large red rock this time, and found that it had a hollow under it, perfect for curling into. Sans twisted under the rock, pulling his entire length inside with him before sticking his face back out to keep watch. The Leggers were still there, laughing again as Whitebird repeated Sans's startled yelp. Mocking him? At least they were keeping their hands to themselves, he thought, growling.

The rock was still nicely warm from its time out of the water, and Sans decided it was a good spot to stay for a while. He wiggled around until he found a position that was both somewhat comfortable and able to give him a view of the Leggers. After a few minutes they stepped away from his cage, apparently bored now that he wasn't doing anything. Well, that suited him just fine.

As he watched them, he tried to come up a name for the second Legger. She didn't chatter like Whitebird, in fact hardly saying anything. She was also covered all over in shiny metal spikes. Spike, perfect.

Spike walked towards a large flat rectangle, and as she sat down in front of it, it flared to life. Sound came from the rectangle and reverberated oddly against the cage. Cautiously, Sans slid from his hiding nook, slithering to the wall and putting the side of his head against the glass with a small clink. More Legger speech. Interesting.

He turned, realizing he didn't hear Whitebird anymore, and found her right next to his cage again, watching him closely. She asked a question to Spike, who made a disinterested noise in return, still staring at the box. Whitebird huffed and walked away, chattering to herself again. 

Sans went back to looking at the box again, but was soon interupted by Whitebird stepping in the way. He pulled back to get a better view and realized she was carrying something. Little fish in a clear pouch. As he watched, Whitebird slipped the latch on the top of his cage, opening the hatch, and poured the half dozen or so wiggling creatures in with him.

They were small, panicky things, darting back and forth around him as Sans held still, trying to process what was going on. Damned If they didn't look tasty though. He glanced at Whitebird for direction, wondering if this was another prank. She was talking again, and he caught the word, "eat." 

Of the very short list of Legger words he knew, "eat" and "sleep" were the ones he had learned simply to annoy his brother. The fish were for him. To eat. Oh, Depth yeah. 

Grinning, he stretched his arm out to the nearest fish as he drew out some of his magic. Not enough to ignite his eye, just enough to turn the food's soul blue and -

Sans dropped the magic with a scream as the crack above his eye erupted in pain. Raw, unformed wisps of red magic seeped from his skull, and he curled in on himself, clutching his head.


	4. Bitties in the backyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something I had sitting in a document on the laptop, moving it to here to find by phone later.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," April called as she took the sack of kitchen garbage outside. She rounded to corner of the little duplex to find the can had been tipped over and scattered again. 

Yeah, it's not working to actually try and write this thing so I'm going to ramble plot as I think about this thing. So April's taking the garbage out and, surprise, surprise! The garbages have been knocked over AGAIN. It's the third time this week, and not even bungee cords over the top had been able to keep them out. Which has been driving her crazy, especially since no on e has seen any raccoons around here, like ever. But she'd had raccoons when she was younger, and besides, what else could it be? Not like there are bears around here.

She picked up some of the pieces of thrash that littered the area, crinkling her nose at the smell. Seriously, how did they manage to get the cans even open this time? Lifting up the larger of the two cans, a small slithering noise made her pause. She carefully set it upright, and cautiously looked inside. A flash of red moved within the can and she jumped back with a shout. It was a bright, vibrant red and almost looked wet. Like a giant tongue, or a red eel.

"April?" called a male voice from inside the garage. "Everything ok?"

"Hey, Carsen," she called back, trying to sound confident. "I-I think there's something in the garbage can. Could, um, could you give me a hand?" Perfect, hardly a tremble to her voice. Not scared at all. 

"Is it one of your imaginary raccoons?" Carsen asked jokingly as he came around to join her, wiping his grimy hands with a blue rag as he walked. April never took her eyes of the garbage can. The slithering noise came again, definitely from inside the can. 

 

"I'm starting to doubt that it's a raccoon." She admitted.

 

"Oh? What is it then?"

 

"I think it's a really, really friggin' large snake."

 

Ack, I have no idea here. So it's freaky snake skelly bitty creature, pissed and angry and launches itself into the backyard. April's roommate, and Carsen's girlfriend, Maggie, gets all excited that, hey, was it one of those little skeletons like those fancy pets rich people have been buying lately? Hey, cause that would be really cool! Have I ever seen once that's a snake, well, no... but I heard they're coming up with new bitties all the time! Maybe we could encourage it to come back! Sometimes, if you can believe it, they says that the bittys can actually be smart. And if that was true, that would explain how it's able to keep getting into the garbage can. Maybe it's hungry?

 

Maggie start leaving little plates of food around. Research inline says that different bittys are particular to different types of foods, so they put out hotdogs with ketchup. Then fries with mustard. Corndogs with honey. Spaghetti. Tacos. The plate with the fries had actually been chewed on, leaving chunks of paper plate scattered around. The tacos, plate and all, go missing. Since they've begun leaving food at regular intervals the attacks on the garbages have ceased.

 

"Well, according to my research, and if, of course, Carsen's right and it's one of those bitty things, I think we're dealing with some kind of Edgy. Or maybe a Baby Blue, since the tacos were gone too."

 

They setup a trap with mustard, but it fails. They set of a camera, but it's gone the next day. They set of a new camera, one that live streams online, and they finally get a view! It's a bitty, all right, but not like any they've ever even heard of. Questions to online forums only bring more questions than answers, but there's a fifth page news story from last month on a MyGeniXs truck that had been involved in some sort of accident a few streets over.

 

April, bored, doodles the creature from the camera. Draws it in little clothes like she's seen bitty on the internet. Makes an adorable little fashion show.

 

Papers get left outside, a few get shredded, at least one is missing, but it's hard to tell. One day there's a scrap of junkmail covered in dirt, berry juice and charcoal. Has a distinctive feature on it that makes it look to be April. April has a fight with Maggie and Carsen, and in her distress decides to go outside. There's some rustling, but it's gone when she goes to check it out. When she returns to the porch there's a piece of junk mail sitting on the step. It's covered in dirt, charcoal scratches and what looks to be berry juice. It makes her smile.


	5. s.a.n.s.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another beginning I have in my folder

System ready.

There was a whirr of machinery, clicking drives and twisting servos as the machine booted up. The monitor came to life, text flashing across the screen.

COREBIOS 20XX Core Technologies  
WDG PSKPL SOUL BIOS Revision 0402  
CPU: Helvetica Serif Dual CPU E2180 @ 2.00Ghz  
Speed: 2.51Ghz Count:2

Behind panel f287, a small, flickering light pulsed weakly. Self-test results began to scroll past, testing sensors, inputs, outputs. With each successful test, the light grew stronger, until finally:

Power-Up Self Test passed successfully.  
Startup Complete.  
Soul Activated Neurosensory System is starting.

s.a.n.s. online.

The blue glow flared once more before stabilizing, and s.a.n.s. awoke for the first time. 

There was a moment when he couldn't make any sense out of the bright, blurry images his camera sent him. The lens adjusted, and the image sharpened. He was not alone.

While the camera focused on the monster directly in front of his camera, s.a.n.s. searched his memory banks. A visual match to CORE employee records labeled the figure, "Gaster, W. D., M.Sc.Eng." Gaster wasn't speaking, but s.a.n.s. could faintly hear the rustle of his lab coat and the scratch of pen on paper, so he knew his audio processes were functioning. 

He turned up the gain up on his microphone, bringing all the ranges to 50, to better hear the sounds.  
That was a bit better, he decided.

"Alright," the monster spoke aloud, "how are you functioning?"

That pushed all the audio sensors far into the red. Oops. His camera light dimmed as he shuffled power to adjust for the new ranges. While he did that, he searched his database for a proper reply.

Letter by letter, his response typed out onto the monitor, followed shortly by his voice synthesizer repeating the words out of his speakers.

"Systems operating at 96.7% capacity." His audio levels stabilized, and he corrected himself. "99% capacity."

Gaster nodded as he continued to write on his clipboard.

The doctor walked around his metal body, checking the different processes. Everything was functioning as normal. There was a constant scratch, scratch, scratch on the paper.

Eventually Gaster made his way back to the front of his main camera. Setting the pen and board down, he pulled a small recorder from his lab pocket. There was a click, and Gaster began to speak again.

"Startup test A03, result successful," Gaster said, looking directly into the camera lens. "Uptime, 23 minutes, 43 seconds. Beginning shut down."

At the words, s.a.n.s. felt an uncomfortable surge through his systems. He didn't like the way began to search his database for all occurrences of Shut Down. 

Shut Down. Power Off. Disconnection. End. Nothing. Every instance regarding Shut Down stopped abruptly into empty information. Not even zeros, but a void of nothing. A small beeping sound began to emanate from his core.

With a click of the recorder, Gaster was speaking again, looking at a twitching display as s.a.n.s. continued searching his memory banks. There had to be more data. "Soul ratings fluctuating at a higher rate of instability than initially expected, must look into the acceptable variances upon next startup." Reaching forward, Gaster flipped a switch.

Suddenly, s.a.n.s. felt his axillary temperature sensor disconnect. That was unsettling, and he began to reroute the connection to bring it back online.

Gaster took another step, and s.a.n.s. lost his magic detector. Another switch, and the beeping sound ended as his audio processor went out. This… was this Shut Down?

Canceling the database search, s.a.n.s. felt another surge of magic flare through his remaining systems. Fear. He did not like this, he did not like this at all. 

One by one, processes went offline. There were too many, and s.a.n.s. couldn't control it. He could only watch, processes overloaded with fear, as the doctor reached for the switch directly below his main camera.

Circuits spasmed as s.a.n.s. lost the camera, his final external input. 

Time became meaningless, something that he had no way to track or understand. The world was dark and silent, and s.a.n.s. was alone. He was in the Void, surrounded by nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Then, he was gone too.


End file.
